


A Shore Worth Swimming To

by octoberfeeling



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Abraham Louis Greenfeld is a Certified Soft Boy, Garrett is a Mom Friend, M/M, Metternimpression is a real word, POV Bram Greenfeld, Pre-emails, Soft feelings, no movie spoilers though, tiny movie reference at the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 20:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13725843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberfeeling/pseuds/octoberfeeling
Summary: Bram started crushing on Simon way before any thought of an online penpal crossed his mind. His feelings have been brewing for a while now, and he has to do something, a confession in his own way. Anonymous and vague. Safe.He never imagined the result.





	A Shore Worth Swimming To

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! I'm writing again! I just couldn't resist writing about these Soft Boys. I adore them.
> 
> I'm having a lot of fun getting into Bram's head for this story. I relate to him a lot, and I love writing his feelings. Let it be known I'm being totally self-indulgent whenever writing anything relating to Taylor Metternich. Also, Garrett is 100% a Mom Friend. He just wants to make sure his bro is staying hydrated.
> 
> Maybe this strays from canon a tiny bit sometimes??? But I'm just using my imagination so pls don't hate me I'm trying to stay as true to character as possible, I really respect the way Becky writes characters so in no way am I about to majorly change anything.
> 
> Okay I'm done talking now, enjoy! Thank you for being here!

_He makes it look so easy… how can someone just be so confidently himself around other people?_ That’s what I’m wondering, smiling quietly as I watch messy blond hair move animatedly every which way and the corners of eyes crease with laughter - when I feel Garrett’s foot against my shin, a little too hard. I shoot him what Leah would call an Epic Side Eye but I secretly thank him for reminding me I had been staring again.

So, I may or may not have developed a bit of a massive crush on Simon Spier.

If I’m being truthful, it probably started the first time I saw him in freshman year and I’ve just been letting these feelings simmer and grow since then, but it was the spring musical last year that officially ruined me. I blame Sondheim and some magical beans. _There are big, tall, terrible giants in the sky…_ Okay, I knew he could sing. But. Wow. Garrett was dragged to every performance, and subsequently dragged out of the auditorium after each one before Nick could catch us there.

Nick and Simon have been best friends since forever, and I just… can’t have him wondering what brought about my sudden interest in musical theatre and potentially mentioning it casually at the lunch table, as he is wont to do with a great many topics. Example #24: his current point of discussion - the significance of his totally average and arguably boring dreams. We’re only a week into junior year and it would seem that Nick Eisner has developed two new obsessions: dream analysis and the new girl, Abby Suso. Abby is genuinely a perfect ball of sunshine who consistently smells warm, and if I had an ounce of Straight in my soul, I’d totally get it. I just hope I’m not constantly making eyes at Simon like Nick makes at Abby. I’d rather not be that obvious. I’m not even sure he’s into guys...

My thoughts are interrupted by a voice that sounds like it doesn’t need to go to a salon for a balayage because it just _naturally_ has blonde highlights.

“Auditions today! Y’all nervous?” Taylor Metternich. Just _naturally_ perfect. Just naturally terrifying.

“A little,” Abby answers, “My first production at a new school and all, but I--”

“Awww. I totally get it. I’ve never had stage fright or anything though, I guess I was just _born_ to perform! Well, see y’all later! Break legs!”

Usually it’s Leah who follows up with the Metternimpression, but as soon as Taylor’s out of earshot, Simon mimes flipping long hair over his shoulder, bats his eyelashes, sighs lightly and mocks, “I guess I was just _born_ to perform!” This, of course, sets the whole table off cackling, and I’m left swooning and trying to match my smitten chuckle to the deep belly laughter of the rest of our friends.

***

“Hey, man, where are you?” Nick is waving a hand wildly in front of my face, and I realize I’ve been doing the same stretch for two full minutes. Right, left, right, left.

“Sorry, zoning out. I guess I’m a little anxious,” I respond, distant.

“About tryouts? Dude, you’ll be totally fine!” He thinks it’s about tryouts. Well, okay, it’s a little bit about tryouts. But it’s mostly about what I’m going to do after tryouts. I feel nauseated. “You’ve been on JV for two years and you’re basically a star player, there’s no way Coach won’t put you on Varsity. You got this!”

“Thanks, Nick.” It comes out sheepish and embarrassed. I try to stand up a little straighter as he pats me on the back before running to join the team for group warm-ups. I wait a moment, breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, shake my head as if to put my thoughts on shuffle and pick a new track, and then run after him. I’ll just focus all my energy into tryouts for now. Keep my mind off of my plan...

I’ve decided I’ve got to do something. Put it out there, as vaguely and anonymously as possible. Maybe I can’t come out to my parents, or anyone but Garrett for that matter, but people post anonymously about their personal lives on creeksecrets all the time. I can do this. I just want to be able to say it - type it - _somewhere_.

I’m…

***

…on the team! Tryouts are amazing, exhilarating. It feels so good to be back with the team after a whole summer of just kicking around with a couple of them at a time. Nick was right, I made it onto Varsity. This could be great for college apps starting later this year. Oh, no. There’s one more thing to be anxious about.

Not the time, Bram. I’m home now and I’m on a mission.

I take a quick shower to wash away the sweat of tryouts. I run through what I’m planning to post as the hot water hits my back. It’s only September, so the Georgia weather still slightly resembles summer, with just the tiniest bit of crispness to the air, but I can’t resist a skin-melting shower. It’s renewing, somehow.

After toweling off and pulling on shorts and my favorite t-shirt (blue green and heavenly soft), I sit down in front of my laptop and open Tumblr.

 

> Get started!
> 
> Email:

Wait.

I have to make an account before I can post anything. And the only way to keep this anonymous is to set up that account with an email that is in no way associated with any of my other accounts. To gmail I go.

 

> Create your Google account!
> 
> Choose your username:

I’m not creative enough for this…

 

> Create your Google account!
> 
> Choose your username: bluegreen118@gmail.com

Maybe it’s obvious. Maybe part of me wants it to be. Bram Louis (Blue) (Green)feld. January 18th - my birthday.

 

> First name: Blue
> 
> Last name:

Thank goodness that box can be left blank. I set up a password, confirm it, do the same thing on Tumblr, and then click the button that feels like it’s sealing my fate. _Here goes nothing. Here goes everything._

***

 

> Hi, Creekwood.
> 
> Do you ever think about how little we actually know about the people we spend every day with at this school? It’s almost as if people are these vast houses that only have tiny little windows we can see into. People get to pick and choose what we see through the windows.
> 
> And we can sit so near to one another in classrooms and the cafeteria every day, but we’re so far apart. There are entire oceans between people.
> 
> I think the point of everything is to find a shore worth swimming to.
> 
> I guess what I’m trying to say is that there’s one huge part of me that hardly anyone knows about. It’s a window I usually keep covered up. But I deserve to be fully myself just like anybody else, so here goes:
> 
> I’m gay.
> 
> -Blue

***

I can’t post it. What if people figure out it’s me? I mean, Shady Creek is pretty liberal, I guess. But it’s still Georgia. It’s still the South. People are still stupid and mean. I’m feeling nauseated again. I pick up the phone and call the only other person in the world who knows about me.

“Don’t chicken out now, man!” Garrett practically shouts instantly after the phone connects.

“I can’t do this. I can’t _do_ this!”

“Yes, you can, buddy. No one’s gonna find out it’s you. You’ll feel so free after you post it! And if you don’t, I’ll let you delete it after 24 hours. But you’ve got to leave it up at least that long. What if you get a totally positive response? Don’t you want that?

“I guess…”

“Dude, do you need me to come over there and click the ‘Post’ button for you? I totally will.”

“No, no. I can do it. I think. Just… stay on the line, okay?” I take one improbably deep breath in, exhale as slowly and with as much control as I can muster, move the pointer over the ‘Post’ button, and…

“I did it.”

I hear a series of wild whoops of support on the other end of the line, but it’s fuzzy. Like I’m underwater. My breathing is definitely uneven. I’m aware of it, but I can’t fix it. My eyes burn. I’m so pathetic. This is supposed to feel like a sweet breeze of relief, instead it feels like a wave of anxiety and something resembling guilt crashing over me, soaking me and making everything feel too heavy. Too much.

I need to sit down. I am sitting down.

I stand and start pacing. Garrett’s voice cuts through a little clearer for a moment. He’s concerned. “Are you okay? Deep breaths. Do you need me to come over? Do you have water?”

“I have water. I’ll be okay. Thanks, Garrett. I think I’m just gonna do the reading for Mr. Wise to keep my mind off of things, and then go to bed.” I doubt I’ll get much sleep.

“Okay. I’m proud of you, man.”

We hang up, and I crash on my bed with whatever it is I’m supposed to be reading for English. I can’t focus. I’ve just finished reading the same paragraph for the fifth time when I hear a ping from my laptop.

 

> **fruitsburket** liked your post

Of course, Leah _would_ be the first person to see and interact with my post. She practically lives on creeksecrets.

I start to spiral again, worrying over whether she’ll figure me out. I decide it’s best to shut my laptop and attempt to get some sleep. It seems to take forever, but eventually, I’m too tired to worry anymore and I’m out.

***

I wake up to several notifications, but two in particular stand out to me.

First:

 

> **hourtohour.notetonote** reblogged your post and added “THIS.”

Second:

 

> Email from hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

I open the second one, breathless. I have no idea what to expect.

 

> **From:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> **To:** bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> **Subj:** Hey
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> I’m just like you.
> 
> Jacques

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I appreciate you!!! Feel free to leave kudos or a comment if you have thoughts to share, it would make my day! Also, if you really liked it, please considering donating to my ko-fi so that I can pay rent this month: ko-fi.com/emmajoy
> 
> Many loves!


End file.
